Tama's ordinary costume is much the same as ours, except that he prefers to go barefooted. On Sundays and occasions of state he dons the black cloth and white choker of an orthodox clergyman; but even then he avoids boots. Only on very special occasions, such as when there is a grand gathering at the township, or on the rare occurrence of an English clergyman's visit, only then does Tama put on boots; even then he brings them in his hand to the door of the place of meeting, puts them on before entering, and takes them off with evident relief directly he feels free to go. Tama is about five feet ten inches in height. He is broad and square, very muscular, and without an inch of fat on him. His body is long and his legs short; the usual Maori characteristic. His face bears the elaborate moku that denotes his rank, and is without hair. The hair of his head is grizzly; but his features, the shape of his head, and the expression of his eyes, bespeak an intelligence superior to that of many Europeans who come in contact with him. Tama visits us very frequently, and often brings his wife with him. She is a pleasant, buxom body, with a contented smile always on her face. Though not young, being probably between thirty and forty, she has not yet grown at all hag-like, as Maori women generally do. She dresses cleanly and nicely--cotton or chintz gowns being her usual wear--but she leans to an efflorescence of colour in her bonnet, and has a perfect passion for brilliant tartan shawls. I think I once saw her at the Otamatea races in a blue silk dress. But, both she and her husband have discarded all the feathers and shells and pebbles that are purely native adornments. Astute and intelligent as Tama really is, it is, of course, to be expected that he cannot comprehend all the novelties of civilization. His deportment is always admirable, and he would carry himself through a drawing-room without any sensible _gaucherie_. He would be calm, composed, and dignified among any surroundings, however strange to him; only his keen and roving eyes would betray his internal wonder. Like Maoris in general, he is critically observant of every little thing among his Pakeha friends, but, with true native courtesy, endeavours to hide from you that he is so. But the extraordinary mixture of grave intelligence and childish simplicity in him is perpetually leading to very quaint little incidents. One day, when routing among the "personals" I had brought with me from England, I discovered at the bottom of my chest an umbrella. Now, in England, I suppose most people consider an umbrella as quite an indispensable article of attire, and even in colonial cities its use is by no means uncommon; but I need hardly say that in the bush such a thing is never seen.